adour. Presently, to his great
surprise, the lady advanced from her companions, neared Maltravers, and
said, in a voice which he did not at first distinctly recognise--"Is it
possible?--do I see Mr. Maltravers?"

She paused a moment, and then threw aside her veil, and Ernest
beheld--Madame de Ventadour! By this time a tall, thin gentleman had
joined the Frenchwoman.

"Has _madame_ met with an acquaintance?" said he; "and, if so, will she
permit me to partake her pleasure?"

The interruption seemed a relief to Valerie;--she smiled and coloured.

"Let me introduce you to Mr. Maltravers. Mr. Maltravers, this is my
host, Lord Doningdale."

The two gentlemen bowed, the rest of the cavalcade surrounded the
trio, and Lord Doningdale, with a stately yet frank courtesy, invited
Maltravers to return with the party to his house, which was about
four miles distant. As may be supposed, Ernest readily accepted the
invitation. The cavalcade proceeded, and Maltravers hastened to seek an
explanation from Valerie. It was soon given. Madame de Ventadour had
a younger sister, who had lately married a son of Lord Doningdale.
The marriage had been solemnized in Paris, and Monsieur and Madame de
Ventadour had been in England a week on a visit to the English peer.

The _rencontre_ was so sudden and unexpected that neither recovered
sufficient self-possession for fluent conversation. The explanation
given, Valerie sank into a thoughtful silence, and Maltravers rode by
her side equally taciturn, pondering on the strange chance which, after
the lapse of years, had thrown them again together.

Lord Doningdale, who at first lingered with his other visitors, now
joined them, and Maltravers was struck with his high-bred manner, and a
singular and somewhat elaborate polish in his emphasis and expression.
They soon entered a noble park, which attested far more care and
attention than are usually bestowed upon those demesnes, so peculiarly
English. Young plantations everywhere contrasted the venerable
groves--new cottages of picturesque design adorned the outskirts--and
obelisks and columns, copied from the antique, and evidently of recent
workmanship, gleamed upon them as they neared the house--a large pile,
in which the fashion of Queen Anne's day had been altered into the
French roofs and windows of the architecture of the Tuileries. "You
reside much in the country, I am sure, my lord," said Maltravers.

"Yes," replied Lord Doningdale, with